Forgiveness
by M E Wofford
Summary: Ziva makes a new friend after being rescued.
1. Chapter 1

SPOILER FOR ALIYAH

I have thought since I saw the episode how devastating it all must have been for Ziva. So this is my take on her after she is rescued. I don't say how she is rescued because it's not really important to the story but personally I feel it will not be NCIS that rescues her or Mossad. For some reason I see Trent Kort and the CIA getting involved. Don't know why. Just my gut, and like Tony's gut sometimes my gut sucks.

I do not own NCIS or any part thereof.

FORGIVENESS

Betty Carelli walked down the familiar hallway leading to the hospital chapel or "meditation room" as they called it now. Over the last four years while Frankie fought his losing battle against cancer she had memorized every landmark; the arched entrance leading off to the cafeteria, the information station with the Pink Ladies and Gentlemen waiting to help you find your way, the gift shop with its overpriced trinkets, and finally the golden-hued wooden door in a building otherwise filled with metal doors with a discrete sign over it saying "Meditation."

She pushed the door open and as always felt the cool welcome of the room. It was nothing like the churches she'd gone to as a child and woman with the lingering smell of incense and the echoes of prayers still in the air. This small, square room had six short pew-like benches sitting on either side with an ornate podium in front of the seats and a thick carpet of deep red covering the floor with matching curtains draping the walls. She made her way to her favorite seat, the front bench on the far right where she could rest her back in the corner.

It was the quiet she thought she enjoyed most. Everywhere else you went in a hospital, no matter which hospital, there was noise. Always the hiss and hum of machines, the muted murmur of hundreds of voices like a distant brook, occasionally a shriek or scream, and sometimes scarily the sound of running feet as the rescue team raced death to haul someone back from the precipice. Twice already the someone hauled back had been Frankie.

Sitting down she heaved a sigh of relief. The quiet refreshed her and eased even her physical pain. Ever since she'd fractured her hip two years ago walking had been painful but she refused to use more than a cane. Dammit, she hadn't come to the walker stage yet. She might be 86 years old but by God she could still get where she wanted to go even if the going was slow. But it sure as hell did feel good to rest in the quiet.

She smiled at her thoughts. When she was young she would never have cursed, even in her thoughts, in a chapel but now it seemed unimportant. God had probably made up his mind about her years ago and she didn't think there was much she could do at this late date to change her ultimate destination. Snorting at her own silliness she made herself comfortable. Turning so she could prop her leg up on the seat and settling her cane with the curved handle over the back of the pew she lowered her head and started off by saying a little prayer for her Frankie, asking that his suffering be lightened and shortened if at all possible. At 93 with first lung cancer and now brain cancer she knew Frankie would find relief only in death. Sad but true. Her husband of almost 60 years and father of two of her four children was dying and she could only pray for the end to come quickly.

"Amen," she said out loud and crossed herself and then settled back more comfortably. Now she would do what she usually did, remember. Today she chose to remember Frankie when they first met. She a young war widow with two small sons and Frankie a big strapping second generation Italian-American from the Bronx who'd survived D-Day with a hunk of shrapnel in his back but still managed to work as a longshoreman for 30 years. He'd had curly black hair and the biggest, softest brown eyes back then and had easily captured her heart even before he spoke a word to her.

Sitting there her eyes closed she smiled as she thought of their first kiss. All tenderness to begin with but it had rapidly become passionate and she'd learned food wasn't the only big appetite Frankie possessed. Her only regret now was she hadn't indulged both of them more often, enjoyed each other at every opportunity. He had been quite the man in those days, her Frankie.

She sat up straight, dropping her leg back down to the floor. She'd heard something. Like someone shifting position. She looked around the room, still empty. She heard the sound again, like leaves rustling almost. She reached for her cane. Wasn't much but it might do to fend off someone and she was still a hell of a screamer if need be.

A whisper of a whimper came from behind the podium. She got up slowly, not using her cane to balance herself but instead carrying it like a club held back over her shoulder. Walking as quietly as she could she made her way to the wooden stand and peeked over the top of it.

A young woman sat on the floor; a girl with two long dark braids over her shoulders dressed in a hospital gown and pajama bottoms. She had her legs pulled up close to her chest with her arms wrapped around them. Betty couldn't see her face but she could see her arms and bare feet. All the exposed skin revealed a rainbow of bruises with what looked like some kind of scrapes or burns around her wrists. Two of the fingers on her left hand were in a buddy splint. The woman huddled into herself and didn't say a word as Betty stared down at her.

Feeling foolish Betty set her cane tip back on the floor and leaned forward.

"Goodness you scared me. You okay? You need me to get anybody for you, honey?"

At the sound of her voice the woman's head jerked up and Betty caught her breath. The woman had been so severely beaten Betty couldn't tell if she was pretty or not. The entire left side of her face was swollen, discolored. Her brown eyes were blackened and puffy staring up at Betty with what could only be fear.

Lowering her voice, Betty backed slowly away, retaking her seat on the pew.

"It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. My name's Betty, Betty Carelli. I just came to pray for my husband, Frankie. This is his second week here this time and I come most every day. It's a nice place this chapel, isn't it? Very nondenominational though. I miss when hospitals used to have a real chapel and there were real chaplains around all the time. You didn't have to page one to talk to somebody."

Betty knew she was rambling but thought if she could just keep talking in a soothing voice she might be able to help calm the young woman. She'd looked so scared. Betty just wasn't used to scaring people. At 86 her scaring days were long past except for her great-grandkids, the little brats.

"You wanna come out maybe? Sit here by me? I'd come sit by you cause I like meeting new people and getting to know them but if I sit on the floor then I got to have a crane to get my fat old butt back up again."

She laughed at herself. Everything she'd said was true but it still struck her as funny. You never thought you'd reach this point when you were young but somehow you get here. Thank God he'd let her keep her sense of humor through it all.

She heard movement and thought she saw the flip of a braid as if the stranger was looking around the corner of the podium. She smiled and patted the bench next to her.

Then the door in the rear of the room slammed open and Betty jerked around to see a silver-haired man come in, a cell phone at his ear. He strode to the end of Betty's pew and fixed a blue-eyed glare on her.

"Are you alone? Have you seen anyone else in here; a female patient with dark hair, moving slowly?"

Oh…so this was why she was hiding, her little friend behind the podium? This overpowering man who had such pretty blue eyes and yet looked so mean? Betty made up her mind quickly.

"Nope, ain't seen nobody since I came down about half an hour ago. Just me and the good Lord, I guess."

The man nodded his head and turned and strode out of the room speaking in his phone, "Not in the chapel. Get some more agents and close off all the exits."

He stopped as he got to the door and looked back at her seeming to weigh the truth of her words then let the door close behind him. She heard him say before the quiet of the room returned, "Don't worry, DiNozzo, we'll find her. She can't have gotten far."

Silence returned to the room then she heard the tiny whimper. She made up her mind. The beaten woman needed a friend. If men like that one were hunting her she needed a friend now! Pushing up she walked back to the podium, backed up to the wall and slid down, using both the podium and her cane to slow her descent. Her butt was about 8 to 10 inches from the floor when she let go and plopped down on her ass. A sharp pain jolted through her from her old fracture site and she groaned but then settled in.

"Well, now we're in for it. I may never get up again."

She looked at her companion and smiled.

"So, since I'm down here and won't be getting up for a while let's talk. I told you I'm Betty right? What's your name, sweetie?"

There was no answer but then she hadn't really expected one.

"It looks to me like maybe you might need somebody to talk to. I know I'm a fat old woman and not much good anymore for most things but I can still listen and if need be I got a cell phone and I know how to use it to call the cops. I'm a damned good listener even if I do say so myself."

Still the dark-haired stranger didn't speak.

"You might as well talk. I won't be getting up anytime soon, not without some help and we'll both get bored."

Betty smiled again. Now that she was closer she could see the right side of the younger woman's face. She was a pretty girl after all. The left side had obviously been the focus of her beating. The eye on that side still opened only a slit and swelling distorted her jaw and lips.

The woman looked up as Betty stayed silent. Betty could see her throat move as she swallowed. Then in a faint, raspy voice, like she'd smoked too many cigarettes the night before or spent a lot of time screaming recently, she said, "Ziva. My name is Ziva."


	2. Chapter 2

I do not own NCIS or any part thereof.

FORGIVENESS

-2-

Gibbs snarled into his phone.

"Meet me back at her room, DiNozzo, and call McGee. Tell him to get his butt down here now."

He knew he was angry at the wrong people but the people he needed to be angry at were either dead or so high up the political food chain they were out of his reach, at least for the moment. He came to a stop and leaned against the wall, breathing deeply, trying to think through his fears for her safety.

Where would she go? More to the point, where could she go? Where would a woman with broken fingers and ribs, bruised kidneys, and only one good eye go? Where would a slender woman, no make that a skinny woman now, with barely strength to move her head from side to side go? How could she hide from them? He and Tony had checked every damned room on this floor, even all the ladies and mens rooms. No sign of her. How had she managed to get up out of bed by herself much less leave the room? From personal experience he knew only too well the physical pain she must be enduring. Shaking his head he pulled away from the wall. Too many questions. He had to organize a larger search. McGee should be here soon and Tony had talked to the head of hospital security and now there were at least 10 people looking for his elusive ex-agent, ex-Mossad officer, the frail and broken Ziva.

He walked on down the hall toward Ziva's room. Tony stood in front of it. His short hair sticking straight up and his shirt untucked. He'd been sitting guard duty with her when the psychiatrist had asked him to step outside; she had a few questions needing answers. Since Ziva had steadfastly refused to say a word to anyone including the psychiatrist since regaining consciousness here in Portsmouth Hospital the doctor thought maybe Ziva's former partner could pass on a little useful information. The psychiatrist hadn't been really satisfied with Tony's input and so after a few minutes had left to visit another patient. When Tony got back into the room Ziva was gone. Her I.V. pulled out and left dripping on the bed.

He'd called Gibbs immediately, his voice deeper with his stress.

"She's gone, Boss. I just stepped out to talk to the shrink and she's gone."

Hearing the rise in inflection Gibbs knew DiNozzo was close to panicking. Had been close to panicking ever since they'd left Ziva standing on the airfield in Tel Aviv. How much of the panic came from his suppressed feelings for her and how much from the blame he assigned himself as the cause of all Ziva's woes was hard to work out. He knew Tony internalized blame almost as much as he did himself. And yes, some of what happened Tony had set in motion, but he wasn't to blame. He was just doing his job while trying to protect his partner at the same time. The real villain in the piece as Gibbs saw it was Director David, a user and abuser of both his agents and his family.

Someday you and I are going to have a face-to-face meeting, Director David, Gibbs promised himself, and there won't be anyone around to save your ass then. Not Vance. Not SecNav. Not a building full of Mossad assassins. Just you and me.

Tony stepped up to him as he got to the door.

"I can't figure where she could have gone, Boss. Less than an hour ago she was sleeping. I tried to feed her some pudding but she wouldn't eat for me and I think she fell asleep to avoid me trying the soup next."

The younger agent tried to smile but didn't quite make it. Gibbs put his hand on Tony's shoulder and squeezed.

"We'll find her, DiNozzo."

Tony's green eyes were rimmed red with sleeplessness and worry; dark circles made his face look gaunt. A three-day growth of beard, a couple of shades darker than his sandy hair, covered his cheeks and neck.

"I know we will but…"

"No buts. We'll find her."

Gibbs nodded and squeezed one more time. Then he pulled out his phone to get an update on McGee's anticipated arrival and the status on the extra agents he'd requested. He knew they'd find her. He just hoped it would be in time.

If he closed his eyes he could still see Captain Lester's face as he told him what Ziva had said when the marines found her. Lester had his emotionless official report face on but still managed to look upset when he'd outlined her condition.

"Ms. David was tied in a chair. There was a large puddle of dried blood under the chair and blood spray on the surrounding walls. At first Corporal Donovan couldn't get a pulse but he kept on until he finally found one. She was untied and resuscitation efforts started. At one point she became conscious briefly and whispered something to the corporal."

Captain Lester stopped. Gibbs had had to prompt him to continue.

"Well, what'd she say?"

The hardened marine, a 15-year veteran, said, "She told Corporal Donovan we came too soon."


	3. Chapter 3

I do not own NCIS or any part thereof.

FORGIVENESS

-3-

Betty waited but Ziva, what kind of name was that anyway, didn't say anything else. She wouldn't look at her either so Betty reached out and took the poor girl's hand ever so gently because of the bruising and held it.

"Is that man trying to hurt you? We can have cops here inside of ten minutes. My grandson Terry's a Virginia State Trooper and all I gotta do is give him one call."

Before she'd finished Ziva had pulled her hand away and looked up, her uninjured eye wide.

"No. No. He is not trying to hurt me."

Just listening to her voice made Betty want to cry. Her daughter had sounded like that after she'd seen the Beatles live back in the 60s, barely able to talk for two days because she'd screamed herself into laryngitis over four silly mop top boys. Betty knew Ziva hadn't been screaming in adoration of some rock star. Her screaming had been of the serious variety. As her daddy used to say, someone had put a hurting on this girl.

"You sure? Cause he definitely looked mean enough."

She thought a little smile, the tiniest of smiles, might have crossed Ziva's swollen lips.

"No, Gibbs is trying to help me. They are trying to help me."

Betty snorted.

"Well if he's trying to help you why are you hiding?"

She reached out and took the long-fingered, delicate hand again and held it.

"What's wrong, Ziva? Maybe I can help? At least tell me why you're hiding."

Betty slowly pulled Ziva around until she was sitting next to her, both of them with their backs against the wall. She let go of the hand she held and patted Ziva's thigh.

"You can whisper if you want. I won't tell a soul, I swear to God."

She crossed herself to show her earnestness.

Ziva searched her face.

Betty smiled, knowing that Ziva saw an old woman with lots of wrinkles and thick glasses. But she'd always been told she had a kind face.

"I ain't done much in my life except raise kids, grandkids, and now great grandkids, Little Ziva, but it taught a thing or two on how to offer comfort when comfort is needed and it sure as hell looks to me like you are in dire need of comforting."

She sat still, her head turned toward Ziva. Waiting to see what the other woman would do.

Slowly, hesitating between every few words, Ziva began to speak. Betty sat quietly and listened.

"Gibbs wants to help me now. They all want to help me; Ducky, Abby, McGee, Jimmy…"

She paused and Betty thought she saw the glimmer of a tear on the lashes of her right eye, the one not so swollen, but it didn't fall.

"Tony," Ziva said so quietly Betty could hardly hear her.

"Tony? Did you say Tony? Who's Tony? He your fella?"

The tear fell and another took its place. Soon Ziva leaked slow tears from both eyes. She'd stopped talking.

Shaking her head and sighing, Betty put her arm around Ziva and pulled her close in a sideways hug.

"I'm sorry, we won't talk about Tony, whoever the hell he is, okay? Why don't you want these folks to help you? Something wrong with 'em?"

Ziva shook her head no. After another long pause she spoke again.

"Nothing is wrong with them. It is me that is wrong. Everything is wrong with me. I am the one who failed everyone who trusted me. I am the one who is now the burden."

She stopped and then spoke in a stronger voice.

"They should have left me there. It would have been for the best."

Betty was totally confused but she knew with certainly Ziva was in pain and it wasn't from her injuries.

"Who should've left you where? I'm sorry, sweetie, but I just ain't following you here."

Ziva tried to pull away but Betty held on and slowly Ziva relaxed back against her, letting her head rest on Betty's ample bosom. Betty began to rub her back the same way she'd rubbed her babies' backs when they'd been fussy with teething or an earache.

"It's okay. It's okay. You don't gotta talk. You just lay here and let Granny take care of you for a minute. That's what the grands call me, 'Granny.' I wanted something fancier like Nana or Mimi but Granny stuck so Granny it is. I remember my oldest grandson Geoffrey, he couldn't say granny so he called me 'nanny.' Still does to this day. He teaches physics, of all things, at a high school down in Macon, Georgia, now."

She rambled on and on about her children and their offspring all the time rubbing Ziva's back. Eventually she felt the tension in Ziva's body loosen even more. Then Ziva began to talk again.

She talked about her father, apparently some big wig spy in Israel. She talked about Gibbs, her boss, and how he'd left her there, alone, with her father. She talked about some guy named Michael who apparently she'd been dating. She talked NCIS, whatever the hell that was, and how this Tony character was her partner for four years and how he'd stopped trusting her, they'd all stopped trusting her and how Tony had shot and killed Michael. And they'd all had to go back to Israel and she'd come close to shooting Tony but didn't. Then Gibbs and Tony left her there and her father sent her off to some Godforsaken country in Africa to die.

Ziva stopped. Betty kept rubbing and added a soft humming. She knew Ziva could hear the beating of her heart and she hoped it helped just knowing someone was there for her. She didn't know what else to do. Maybe only God could really help Ziva now so she closed her eyes and said a little prayer for the girl she held and then hugged Ziva even closer.


	4. Chapter 4

I do not own NCIS or any part thereof.

FORGIVENESS

-4-

Tony left McGee talking with Gibbs and began his stalking of the hallways again. Where could she be, dammit? Why had she chosen now to revert to her ninja ways and slip away from them, from him?

He gave himself a mental head slap. It was a sign of how upset he was he could even think something so stupid. He'd seen the pictures of the room where she'd been held, the frighteningly large stain off dried blood under the chair, the multiple splash zones on the walls. He'd been there at the hospital when she'd been flown in and he'd walked by her stretcher as she was admitted through the emergency room. He'd listened to Ducky as the M.E. enumerated her injuries and his overactive imagination insisted on presenting him scene after scene of exactly how those injuries had occurred. He'd sat by her bed for the past two days leaving only when Gibbs commanded it. He'd waited for her to say something, anything, even if it was "I hate you, Tony," but she hadn't said a word. Not to him. Not to Gibbs. Not to Abby or McGee or Ducky. She kept her eyes closed and she never said a word.

And now she was gone. He'd stepped away for five minutes and she was missing. Reaching up he rubbed his eyes using his right hand. His left arm still hung in its sling and ached mercilessly. He refused to take the pain pills prescribed him. His head hurt from lack of sleep. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd eaten. He knew he was in no shape to handle any of this. Hadn't been really since he'd shot Rivkin. He'd known from the moment the fight started the fallout was going to be monumental but never had he envisioned him killing Rivkin and Ziva staying behind in Israel. Never thought he'd be told she'd been captured and tortured, was near death. Never imagined he'd be told by his director to high tail it to Portsmouth Trauma Center if he wanted a chance to say a final goodbye to his former partner.

When he tried to sleep he would see her face; swollen, distorted, her beauty hidden by her injuries. Luckily, her physical status wasn't as severe as first thought and she would make a full recovery given enough time. But as Ducky told them all, Gibbs, Abby, Tim, and him, the real problem was the emotional and psychological recovery. He knew it was true. He'd been there with Gibbs in MTAC when Captain Lester had told them what Ziva'd whispered to the corpsman. He knew what she meant as well as Gibbs and the Captain. Later on, when Ducky gathered them together again to update on Ziva's condition no one looked his way when the M.E. talked about emotional injuries but he knew what they were thinking. It was his fault. His fault. Tony Fucking DiNozzo's fault. He'd failed his partner and his friend. He'd tried to help and only hurt then he'd ridden that plane right out of her life leaving her to the fate her father chose for her.

Now he needed desperately to find her. He had to find her. She'd come back into his life for a reason. She couldn't leave again not…not in that way. He refused to even consider the possibility, refused to think the "S" word – not in the same thought as Ziva one of the toughest people he'd ever met in his life. She'd never consider a coward's means of escaping her pain would she? She'd survived the torture, the hardest part surely?

He knew it for a lie even as he thought it.

God, they'd been such good partners. They'd had a connection. Never needed to say anything once they were in the groove. Sometimes he felt there was an invisible cable connecting them. He stopped and a young nurse ran into him from the rear. She gave him a huffy look as she shoved past him.

The connection! Maybe if he went some place really quiet he'd somehow conjure up the connection they'd had and follow it to Ziva. Gibbs would snort if he knew what Tony was thinking; the others too, except maybe Abby who believed in all kinds of weird things, but he didn't give a damn. He'd try anything, rolling animal bones or reading tea leaves, if it led him to Ziva. He started walking again paying closer attention to his surroundings. Up ahead on the right he saw a wooden door, a small sign over the door read "Meditation."

Exactly what the doctor ordered. If anyone needed some meditation time it was Tony DiNozzo.


	5. Chapter 5

I do not own NCIS or any part thereof.

FORGIVENESS

-5-

The throbbing in her hip forced her to move. She wriggled her behind and sat up straighter, keeping her arms around Ziva. The younger woman hadn't said anything in quite a while and Betty thought she might have fallen asleep, which would be good. But what was bad was her hip which was hurting worse and worse and if she wasn't careful she'd have to stay in bed a day or two to be able to walk again and then she wouldn't be able to visit Frankie everyday. She knew she had to visit Frankie everyday. You never knew when it might be the last day.

"Ziva, honey, I got to move around a little bit. Do you mind? I'm not going to leave or anything but I just need to sit up straight and take some pressure off my hip."

The warm weight of Ziva's head and upper body moved away and Betty used her hands to push herself up and lean to the side, relieving some of the pain she felt.

"Thanks. That feels a little better. It's hell to get old, let me tell you."

Ziva didn't smile at the statement and Betty felt a little foolish for even trying to be the least bit funny. Ziva's problems did not lend themselves to laughter.

Betty searched Ziva's eyes. She wasn't crying anymore, at least not outwardly.

"What're you going to do, Ziva? Once you're out of the hospital?"

After a few moments of hesitation Ziva responded.

"I do not know, Betty. I have no place. I do not even think I have a country anymore. I am a nonperson now. It is like I do not exist."

Betty felt hot tears spring to her eyes. Never had she heard anyone sound so sad, so defeated. Not even Frankie the day they'd found out his lung cancer had metastasized to his brain and the diagnosis was terminal. Not her father when he had come to get her at the ammo plant and tell her Joe, her first husband, had died on Iwo Jima. Ziva sounded so empty of hope.

"But what about these people here? This Gibbs and what's-his-name, Tony, and the others; surely they can help you, protect you?"

Now Ziva did give a little smile and a shake of her head.

"I do not think so. Not for very long anyway. They all have their own lives of which I am no longer a part. They will forget me soon enough and that, I think, is as it should be."

"Oh, Ziva," Betty said and put her hands on either side of the battered face.

"I tell you what, when the doctors are ready to cut you loose you come to Frankie's room, 321, and you can go home with me. It ain't much. Just a 2-bedroom condo with no view but its home and you can stay as long as you want."

The dark eyes were hidden by a sudden film of tears before she jerked away from Betty's hands.

"Do not say such a thing, Betty. It cannot be. I do not think I have permission to even be in this country. I cannot stay."

She stopped and took a deep breath, wincing as she did so.

"I will probably have to go back to Israel and then what was begun in Somalia can be finished somewhere else."

It took Betty a minute to understand what Ziva had truly said. She'd have to go back and be sent out again, to die? Jesus, Mary and Joseph what an unholy mess the poor girl found herself in.

They sat and looked at each other in silence. Betty felt like her mind was in one of those mirror mazes she and Frankie had liked so much at the county fairs. She kept running into a reflective wall as she tried to figure out how to help this lonely, frightened girl child. Both of them turned toward the door as it opened and a man with his arm in a sling came through.


	6. Chapter 6

I do not own NCIS or any part thereof.

FORGIVENESS

-6-

When he pushed the door open he saw an old woman sitting on the floor at the far end of the room. What the hell? Then he realized someone sat next to her, partially hidden by the large podium. Ziva? Ziva!

He started hurrying toward the women but slowed after just a couple of steps. The might-be Ziva person had drawn back behind the podium out of his sight. If it was Ziva she wasn't too happy about seeing him.

Stopping at the corner of the wooden stand he looked over. Ziva sat with the old woman's arm around her shoulders. The stranger held a cane in her other hand and shook it at him.

"Get away from her! Can't you see she doesn't want you around?" she hissed.

Ziva turned her face from him toward her protector. Oh God, where was Gibbs when you needed him? Tony had no experience in dealing with a Ziva who hid from him or felt she needed protection from him. He slowly sat down on the floor a couple of feet away from the women. He crossed his legs Indian-style and placed the hand of his good arm on his knee, careful to offer no threat.

"Ma'am, I'm Tony DiNozzo, NCIS. I've been looking for Ziva. She's not well enough to be up and …"

"So you're Tony? The Tony that doesn't trust her? The Tony that left her behind to die? That Tony? And what the hell is NCIS anyways?"

For an old woman she certainly had a strong and powerful voice.

"Uh, well, yeah…I guess," he said and thought fucking guilty as charged, lady.

She opened her mouth to say something else but Ziva touched her arm. When the woman looked at her Ziva shook her head and sat up and away from her protector.

"Yes, Betty, that Tony," she said.

He thought it might have been better if she had torn his beating heart from his chest rather than hear her say those words, confirmation she did indeed blame him for everything. He bowed his head, willing tears not to fall. DiNozzo men don't cry, right?

He heard a wheeze of pain and then he felt warm fingers touch his where they lay on his knee. He looked up. Ziva had scooted closer to him.

"Tony," she said and stopped. Hearing the rasp in her voice actually made him wince but at least she'd said his name. She'd said "Tony" and she hadn't sounded mad. Progress right?

He looked directly into her eyes and she held his glance for a moment before looking away. He ground his teeth together.

"I'm here, Ziva."

Still not looking at him she said slowly, "I am sorry, Tony. I know you were only trying to help."

The last words were so soft he could barely hear them and once he realized what she'd said he was immediately transported back to a time two years before when he had been the one apologizing to Ziva for verbally assaulting her when she was only trying to help him get over Jeanne. Damn. She was apologizing to him. He didn't think he could bear it. This was worse, so much worse than her accusation of just a moment or two ago.

She didn't say anything else but seemed to be waiting. He realized what she wanted to hear and cleared his throat saying in a voice as soft and low as hers, "And did I?"

Moving her hand from his and laying back against the old woman, Betty was her name right, she said, "I'll have to get back to you…" and closed her eyes.

He sensed someone behind him and wasn't surprised to hear Gibbs say, "Ziva, you need to get back to bed."

His boss squatted down beside him.

"Let us help you, Ziva."

She opened her eyes and looked at them and then shook her head.

"Yes," Gibbs said and stood up. Tony heard him snap open his cell phone and the beep as he hit a button.

"McGee, chapel. Bring a wheelchair."

Then another snap and Gibbs' hand was under his armpit pulling him up.

"C'mon, DiNozzo…"

"Who're you?" the old lady suddenly asked in a shrill voice looking straight at Gibbs.

"Special Agent Jethro Gibbs, ma'am."

"What if Ziva doesn't want to go with you? I don't mind calling the cops you know? You can't make her go with you."

Tony thought it could have been comical any other time – a little white-haired woman threatening the former Marine with her cane but Gibbs didn't seem amused.

"Mrs…." Gibbs left it hanging.

"Carelli, Mrs. Betty Carelli."

"Miz Carelli, we're Ziva's friends. As you can see she's had a bad time lately and she might be a little confused. But if you ask her, she'll tell you we aren't going to hurt her."

Betty's lips tightened and she drew her brows together.

"She already told me. But maybe she's just scared of you. Scared you'll hurt her again."

The old woman thought they'd done this to Ziva? Oh God, how did they ever get here? Shaking off Gibbs' hand Tony knelt down in front of Ziva again.

"Please Ziva, please let us, let me, help you. I'm so sorry it all went down like it did but we can help make it right again."

He heard the quaver in his voice but didn't care. Maybe this DiNozzo man needed to cry. If it got Ziva back by his side, where she belonged, then he'd cry a damned flood.

Reaching out he let his fingers gently trace her cheek, wiping away a tear wending its way down.

"We can help make it better, Ziva."

He caught a second tear and sighed then went with his gut praying he was doing the right thing. Praying she'd know what he was really trying to say.

"Let me help make 'us' better, please?"

He held her chin up, forcing her to look in his eyes, willing her to understand by 'us' he meant them; not Gibbs, not the Team, but Tony and Ziva.


	7. Chapter 7

I do not own NCIS or any part thereof.

FORGIVENESS

-7-

Betty watched as Tony knelt by Ziva and touched her face. He looked almost as bad as Ziva did with his scruff and his sling and an overall sense of neglect but there was no denying the intensity of those leaf green eyes as he made Ziva lift her head and look at him. No denying the painful honesty of the words "let me help make 'us' better."

Ziva put her hand over Tony's where it held her chin and pushed it away.

"How can you say 'us,' Tony? I am not to be trusted now, yes? With no trust there is no 'us,' no team. I am the pariah. I broke the trust. It will all be better if I am gone."

So this was what it all came down to, Betty thought? Ziva did something wrong and no one forgives her or at least she thinks no one forgives her? What the hell kind of people are these yahoos? Sure looked to her like Ziva had suffered enough for whatever she'd done. Reaching out she started pulling Ziva back to her side but Tony grabbed Ziva by the arm and shook her. A sharp gasp of pain escaped from Ziva before she clamped her mouth closed.

"Watch it, you assh…" Betty yelled and raised her cane to strike him.

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs shouted and reached to stop Tony from manhandling the injured woman.

But Tony didn't let her go and Betty saw him shoot a glare at Gibbs that could've stopped a Mack truck. Then he turned back to Ziva.

"I'm sorry, Ziva, but you have to listen to me. If never again in your life NOW you have to listen to me. Yes, you made a mistake. I made a mistake. People lost their lives because of our mistakes. God knows even Gibbs made a mistake leaving you standing there on that airfield. We all made mistakes."

Ziva was whimpering and Betty wanted to whack Tony with her cane up side his head but held back, stopped by something in his eyes or his voice. Glancing at Gibbs, Betty thought he must feel the same way she did – wanting to stop Tony but wanting him to finish what he was saying.

He released his grip and began to gently rub her arm in slow up and down movements.

"We all need forgiveness for our mistakes. It may take some time but we can get past this, all of us. We can forgive but not forget because I don't know about you but I sure as hell don't want to make these same mistakes ever again. It hurts too much."

He gave a sad smile and Betty saw what a handsome man he really was. Here was another good looking guy. Where did she get them? Doesn't matter though how good looking he is, she thought. He grabs Ziva one more time and I'm going to bash the crap out of him.

Still rubbing Ziva's arm Tony leaned closer until their faces were just inches apart.

"Four years, Ziva. Four years you've been my partner. You knocked me down when I needed it. You saw right through my bullshit. You were always there to pick me up or kick my ass, whichever needed doing. When we're apart…"

He hesitated, clearly looking for the right words.

"When we're apart I am less than I want to be."

He leaned forward and barely touched his forehead to hers. She made to pull back but he moved his hand up to her neck and she stopped.

"I need what it is we had, Ziva; our partnership, our friendship, our whatever the hell it is that makes us Tony and Ziva. I need it. When I was agent afloat I found out just how much I needed it and now, when I've almost lost it completely…when I almost lost you…I know I can't do what I have to do without it. Without you, Ziva. I need you."

He was whispering by the time he stopped talking.

Betty saw Ziva lean into Tony now their foreheads fully touching and then Ziva brought her hand up to Tony's face and wiped away a tear from his cheek. Betty didn't know when he'd started crying but his face was wet. She reached up and touched her own face. Her cheeks were wet as well and she didn't know when she'd started crying either. Damn. What a silly old woman she really was.

Lifting the hem of her blouse she wiped her eyes and looked up to see Gibbs watching her. She smiled at him. He looked a little wet-eyed too. Maybe he wasn't so mean after all. The man with the grey hair looked down at the pair on the floor again and then stepped around the podium and came to stand by Betty.

"Miz Carelli, could I assist you in anyway or escort you somewhere?"

Betty smiled a bigger smile. Hell yes you can you fine looking, blue-eyed man.

"If you'd give me a hand up, you could 'escort' me back to my husband Frankie's room."

He grabbed her arm with one hand and put the other around her back and literally pulled her up. He was stronger than he looked and it was so much easier to do with his help rather than with her pushing and shoving and grabbing onto things and sticking her butt in the air. He needed to follow her around!

"Thank you, Mr. Gibbs."

"Call me, Jethro, ma'am," he said and held out his arm to her.

Betty looked down at Ziva and her partner. They still sat with their foreheads touching. He'd put his good arm around her waist and she had both hands on his chest as they sat silently with closed eyes. Was this the 'something' Tony'd been talking about?

Gibbs led her to the door matching his pace to her much slower one. She limped a bit more than usual because of her long sit on the floor. Longest time she'd sat on the floor in decades, she'd be feeling it for days. When he opened the door for her she looked back at the two on the floor again. There was something so peaceful about them now just sitting there holding each other. She sniffed.

"Do you think she'll be okay, Jethro?"

"Working on it now," was his answer.

"Do you think I could visit her in her room? While she's here, I mean."

He stopped, looked down at her and smiled and golly did he have a pretty smile to go with those pretty eyes. Betty thought it was a good thing Frankie wasn't watching this because he'd always been the jealous type.

"I think she'd like that."

She nodded thinking he was through and then he surprised her by adding, "So would I."

And then he surprised her even more by putting his arm around her and hugging her and whispering "thank you" in her ear.

When he let her go she gave him her widest smile, wishing she still had those dimples, and said, "It's what I do, I can't help it. It probably makes me a busybody but I can't see something hurting and not try to help. God made me this way."

Gibbs nodded.

"Which room is your husband's?"

She opened her mouth to answer and then heard a male voice saying breathlessly, "I got the wheelchair, Boss. Where's Ziva?"

Turning around she saw still another good looking man, this one younger with a baby face, maybe closer to Ziva's age, with dark green eyes. She sent a smile his way. Was she turning into one of those, what did they call them now, leopards; the old ladies who liked younger men? She didn't think so. She thought she was just appreciating God's handiwork and that 86 might be old but not dead yet, not by a long shot.

She started as Gibbs slapped the back of the young man's head.

"You're late, McGee. Take the wheelchair to the chapel…"

"Meditation room," Betty interrupted.

Gibbs nodded his thanks.

"Take the damned wheelchair to the 'meditation room' and leave it outside the door. Then go back to Ziva's room and wait for them there. I'll be back after I escort Miz Carelli to Mr. Carelli's room."

McGee's mouth hung open. Betty thought it might be something he did often. It looked too natural. Then he nodded.

"Yes, Boss."

Gibbs smiled as the younger man hurried away.

"You're an interesting man, Jethro, surrounded by interesting people."

He nodded and said, "You don't know the half of it yet, Miz Carelli. You haven't met Abby."

She opened her mouth to ask him about this Abby but then the elevator arrived and they got on, her arm still linked with his.

_Author's note:_

_This seemed a good place to end the story. However, I am considering doing a sequel set a few weeks after this to update us on Betty and her Frankie and how the team is doing. _

_I hope you liked "Forgiveness." _

_Betty is based on two women I love very much: my own mom and her mom. So I am dedicating the story and the character to Sally Calhoun and Mary Beach. I really miss you…_


End file.
